


Uninvited

by MaladyOfReverie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Masquerade, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaladyOfReverie/pseuds/MaladyOfReverie
Summary: It’s Halloween and Greg had a dozen opportunities to talk himself out of being here, Mycroft a hundred reasons to lock himself in his office, destiny a thousand treats in her bag, and fate a million tricks up his sleeve.





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

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Greg Lestrade wasn’t sure why he would receive an invitation like this. Big, black envelope; sharp, Gothic edges; clean, wax seal. Even less would he expect it to be from Mycroft Holmes, but here it was, thick yet delicate in his hands, and he was absolutely positive that it must be a mistake.

_Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade,_  
_If you would be most kind as to consider attending, you are invited to the annual All Hallows’ Eve masquerade ball hosted at the return address._  
_Please dress appropriately, arrive no earlier than 7:00pm, and worry to bring not but yourself._  
_A wonderful season to you._  
_-_  
_Office of M Holmes._

Greg was smiling uncontrollably as he read the letter, walking the stairs to his flat. The subject of Mycroft Holmes often had that affect on him these days. It was a curious situation, no doubt. Highly unexpected, but wasn’t that incredibly like the mysterious Mr Holmes?  
    Greg couldn’t recall any holidays he had spent absent from work in the past few years. It kept his mind off things, better than sitting at home with his lonesome. Besides, unless there was a uniquely special circumstance that year, many of the holidays kept them at their busiest. Halloween was no exception, one of the worst behind Christmas.  
     _Hell,_  he thought to himself,  _Dimmock can handle it. Fuck it, why not?_  
He hadn’t attended anything outside of an office party in years, anyway, this could be exciting. His smile had become as routine as anything else that stood out in his life, but he felt like he could definitely use some ridiculous, harmless fun for a change. He put his small bag of groceries inside the door of his flat, and hurried back to work to put it on his schedule before he could convince himself he wasn’t going.

    ‘Stunning, like every year,’ Mycroft said, with a pleasant smile.  
An hour before invitees started arriving, and Mycroft was finishing up small adjustments to his costume, as well as an early guest’s.  
    ‘Don’t worry, I won’t outshine you on purpose. Do you think this would look better with a corset?’  
Mycroft sighed, ‘Please don’t do that.’  
    ‘Don’t get uptight on me, Mycroft. I am not your father, and I will not be treated as an exhausting embarrassment.’  
    ‘Yes, Uncle.’  _But you certainly can be one if you choose, can’t you?_  he thought.  
Mycroft more than loved his uncle. It was an adoration incomparable to the love he had for any other person in his life, past or present. He was open with him, always trusting, having complete faith in both his intentions and capabilities. But Rudy had always been, as far back as Mycroft could remember, a bit of a well-mannered minx. And though Mycroft didn’t think his uncle was past an age of such pleasures, he was aware that age definitely hadn’t any impact on that playfulness to this point.  
    ‘Really, you should wear something more flashy,’ Rudy suggested again, checking in the mirror that the back of his suit was straightened thoroughly.  
    ‘I like this mask,’  
    ‘That’s exactly why you shouldn’t wear it. Look at you,’ Rudy said, taking Mycroft’s waist in his hands and moving him to the mirror. ‘My beautiful nephew.’  
Mycroft snickered and shook his head.  
    ‘No, no! Hear me out. Look at this figure, look at your posture, look at this impenetrable persona that you have designed. Difficult to replicate. Undeniably recognisable in half a second. Shake it free,’ his hands pulled the lace loose, and the black mask fell off of Mycroft’s face, ‘Be someone else!’ he said enthusiastically, ‘Throw your arms out, dance with a dozen men, splash some colour across your face, be a _different_  mystery, have fun!’  
Mycroft was still smiling, he wasn’t purposefully shaking his head any longer, but it was making the basic movements.  
    ‘I have no desire to dance with anyone...what do you want me to wear, then?’  
    ‘Red. Passion, power, confidence. Makes you appear more uninhibited.’  
    ‘You’re already wearing red.’  
    ‘That’s because I like red. I didn’t reserve the colour for the evening.’  
Mycroft turned to face Rudy, ‘But you said not to wear colours I li-’  
    ‘Never mind what I said, pay attention to what I am saying now,’ he said, turning Mycroft and sitting him down.  
    ‘Fine, but this really is obnoxious of you, you know.’  
    ‘You’re too stubborn for any other approach to be effective. Now, what colour?’  
Mycroft sighed and threw his hands down the arms of the chair. ‘Grey.’  
    ‘Oh, my, did you say blue? What a coincidence, I have just the thing.’  
    ‘Rudy, I have had just about enough of your antics. You should save them for the party, which I have final arrangements to- uck’ Mycroft was cut off by Rudy sliding a soft mask along his face, tying it too loose, then too tight, then too loose again, ‘It’s fine like that, don’t adjust it again.’  
    ‘How is it?’ Rudy asked.  
The mask itself was a fantastic shade of blue, and the design, though elegant, was much less extravagant than what Mycroft was used to seeing in a masquerade mask. The fancifulness that adorned it was found in the gold lace and webbing that fell from the front across his nose and cheeks, and wound up the tying lace to fall down the sides of his face.  
    It took Mycroft a moment to answer, as he carefully considered every detail of the face covering.  
    ‘I like it very much.’

Guests had begun to arrive punctually, Greg was no exception. He knew Mycroft well enough to know that he would appreciate it, if not demand it. The drive was a pleasant one, good scenery even in the darkness of the early hours of nightfall.  
    As Greg drove through the open gate, he thought to himself that Mycroft’s salary must easily earn him more in a week than Greg made in a year. The yard was a splendour as it was, but he was swallowed by a kind of awe as he saw the mansion. There was no other proper word to describe the place. A mansion. Bigger than Greg could ever stomach to live in, especially alone. And with the decorations, and the lights, and the fancy guests escorting their company inside, it was a dazzling sight. It sparkled like the entry to another world, a welcoming door to a place just outside of reality. It was honestly a little frightening, intimidating. A valet offered politely to park Greg’s car, and taking a look at the surrounding people, and their vehicles, Greg hesitated handing him the keys.  
     _Look around, Greg. You don’t belong here, this was clearly an innocent mistake...either that or they’re planning to sacrifice you to something._  
    ‘Sir?’ the young valet prompted Greg to make his decision.  
    ‘Sorry, yeah, here. Thanks,’ Greg opted to grab his mask out of the passenger seat, and step out and let the gentleman park for him. He clutched onto the ticket he had received and slid it into his pocket.  
    Initially he looked at the white and silver mask and felt a little silly to think of putting it on, but after a few casual glances he realised that he would feel more secure with it. He pulled the lace behind his head and tied it, a few women laughed as he noticed that he had tied it to his hair and had to redo it. Perhaps he was a little more anxious than he had thought. After his moment of shame, followed by correction, he looked back to check on his car. He couldn’t find it amidst all of the others.  
    ‘Let’s party,’ he mumbled with a nervous sigh.  
    The man working the entrance asked for his name, and apparently he _was_  on the guest list. That eased Greg’s mind a great deal. Inside, no person, nor signs, offered any direction of any sort. He supposed that this meant to explore freely, but the only quest he was interested in right now was for the loo which he apparently was going to need to guess on. Oh, well. Just look for a line, right? But it proved to be a little more difficult than that. The mansion was decorated so flamboyantly that it didn’t look like anyone had ever lived there. Greg wondered if maybe Mycroft didn’t live here, just threw parties and orgies...that was a terribly rude thought, wasn’t it? Probably just the pressure from his bladder. He had rubbed elbows with probably a hundred people by the time he found the downstairs bathroom, ranging from casually dressed ladies, to monstrously masked men. Most of the guests seemed to be dressed in traditional masquerade fashion, but there were a lot of people and many that were extremely bizarre. Some wore hideous animal masks, mutant rabbits or rabid wolves. Greg had walked by a stilted figure with elaborate horns, whom he could only assume was dressed as the devil himself. He was currently waiting in line behind an obnoxious contortionist who insisted upon walking on his hands.  
     _Maybe it’s helping him to hold it? Gravity and all tha- Come on, Greg, stop that, the guy is just a dick._  
    He settled in for his wait. The line wasn’t too long, honestly. Must be more bathrooms in this place, but that wasn’t exactly surprising considering the size.

    Rudy uncorked a bottle of champagne, as a lovely waitress attempted to stop him and serve him a glass.  
    ‘Sir, Sir, please, take a glass, here,’ she pleaded, reaching desperately for the bottle.  
    Rudy smiled and nodded, ‘No, thank you.’  
He walked away with the entire bottle to look for Mycroft, who already had a half-developed migraine pulsing inside the walls of his skull. He was in the middle of the ballroom. Lovers dancing, strangers flirting, entertainers displaying themselves and their unique skills. He thought that it would be regarded one of the best masquerade balls he had ever thrown. It had a certain horrific quality in it’s awesomeness. Like the finest painting in Hell.  
    Mycroft smiled to see a familiar form walking towards him, red covering his face and neck; a delicate, red shawl falling past his arms to his hips.  
    ‘I brought medicine,’ Rudy said, holding up the bottle.  
Mycroft laughed and took it from his hand, taking a large drink straight from.  
    ‘Thank you. If that isn’t better-’  
    ‘Then up the dosage,’ Rudy interrupted.  
Mycroft nodded seriously, ‘Yes. Yesyesyes.’  
    ‘Has anyone been escorted out yet?’  
    ‘Two,’ Mycroft replied, taking another drink, ‘Some idiot and his ex-girlfriend.’  
    ‘Well, that’s not so bad, honestly. No doubt it will be multiplied infinitely by the end of the night.’  
Mycroft laughed, ‘By midnight I’ll have thrown everyone out.’  
He thought about that for a moment and took another, large drink.  
    ‘Stop that!’ Greg shouted. It was the third time that the contortionist had lost balance and kicked him in the chest, and it was starting to hurt a little.  
Mycroft’s head bent forward and the champagne shot out of his mouth like an explosion, perfectly timed with the feeding cannon alerting that dinner was about to be served.  
    ‘What the!?’ Rudy shouted in his usual, calm demeanour. He examined his drenched trousers, soaked through with more champagne than it seemed to him that Mycroft should be able to keep in his mouth. Some of it must have come up from his throat.  
    ‘Well, this takes me back,’ he said, with a disappointed shrug.  
    ‘Did you hear that!?’ Mycroft shrieked, his agape mouth finally finding some words.  
    ‘Hardly any reason to spit up on me! You chose the damn thing!’  
    ‘What!?’  
    ‘The cannon?’  
    ‘No! Not the fucking cannon, before that! That man!’  
    ‘No one heard anything over the cannon. Congratulations, though, your hearing is-’  
    ‘It was just before the cannon, I heard it! He was yelling at someone!’  
    ‘You’ll beat your midnight deadline by hours if you start throwing people out for that.’  
Mycroft’s nostrils were flaring now, as he began pushing through people moving towards the buffet. Rudy rolled his eyes, and rather than making an effort to clean up, followed his nephew through the crowd. It was dense and difficult to manoeuvre, and now there were bits of light flaking down in Mycroft’s eyes. Confetti, reflecting the abundance of candlelight.  
     _I’m in a daze._  He thought, and in so doing pissed himself off. He screamed angrily and brushed confetti from his hair and the end of his mask.  
    ‘I’d like to get out of these,’ Rudy said, non-reactive to the small tantrum he was witnessing.  
Mycroft stopped and threw his hands up, ‘He could be anywhere by now!’  
    ‘Romantic tragedy of the century. Help me change.’  
Mycroft sighed and resigned to helping his uncle out of his wet attire. Perhaps he had just heard things. The cannon was quite loud, the voice that he heard may have been simply distorted by the noise and pressure in the room. He led Rudy to the upstairs hallway, and to the east part of the house. Everyone would probably be eating in the lower south side, so here they may have better privacy.  
    ‘I am not sure what to give you. My trousers are probably not long enough,’ Mycroft said, untying Rudy’s mask and setting it on the dresser, as his uncle slid off his stained apparel.  
    ‘Close enough to, and it’s better than nothing. Unless you want me strutting around your party uncovered. The draught is kind of nice.’  
    ‘I am happy for you, but I don’t particularly need-’  
A gruff voice in the hallway distracted their conversation, ‘Actually, I ’ave never been into that sort of thing, but thanks.’  
    ‘Bollocks!’ Mycroft whined.  
    ‘Cannot say that I am fond of the language, Nephew Mine.’  
    ‘Piss off, Rudy, do you hear him?’ He asked, peaking out into the hall.  
    ‘This is ridiculous. You should very well know that he is at your party.’  
    ‘This man was _not_  on the guest list!’  
Rudy smiled lovingly. ‘And yet here he is, and you know him. Perhaps he is here to win your heart.’  
    ‘Would you stop talking like that. I don’t like this man.’  
    ‘Oh, apologies. You must hate him a good deal, then. So flustered. How are you positive it’s him, anyhow? He’s in a mask. Maybe you are mistaken.’  
    ‘I would know that voice anywhere.’  
    ‘Romantic.’  
    ‘Stop that!’ Mycroft growled and narrowed his eyes, and went back to watching the man and woman in the hall. Rudy curiously leaned over, as well. A tall woman dressed in a stunning shade of emerald green was basically throwing herself at the knees of a shorter man in a silver-white mask and a cheap suit of black. Rudy wasn’t sure what the initial appeal was, until he listened to the conversation.  
    ‘Oh, come now, Lovely...aren’t we all here to have a little fun, be a little crazy?’  
    ‘Honestly, I see enough crazy, Ma’am. If I start on a little of my own, I might actually go bonkers.’  
Rudy whispered into Mycroft’s ear. ‘I hear it now. That’s fucking orgasmic, isn’t it?’  
Mycroft gagged, ‘Cannot say that I am fond of the language, Uncle Mine.’  
The woman had a shrill, forced laugh that was making all three of the men cringe a little, but Greg had to admit that she did appear rather attractive. Her mask covered her face nearly completely, it even had veiling over her eyes. Her body was on the average side, but Greg kept thinking that her hands were absolutely gorgeous. Maybe that’s why he was slow to stop her from moving them behind his neck. He took her left wrist in his hand to move it away, knowing that it was a small defeat for him. She had been trying to get him to touch her for the past twelve minutes. Her fingers held onto the tie behind his head, and her smooth fingers pulled it loose. The mask fell between them, exposing her prey for her eyes.  
    ‘Hey!’ Greg protested with irritation, catching the mask before it could fall to the floor.  
Mycroft gasped slightly. He had a sort of angry feeling that he couldn’t explain.  
    ‘Ooh~ Who is he, Mycroft? He’s pretty!’ Rudy said quietly, leaning out further into the hall.  
    ‘Rudy, stop that!’  
    ‘Thick, dark hair. Brown eyes. Thin Lips. Perfectly crescent eyebrows. Subtle cleft chin. Hmm...who does that remind me of?’  
    ‘Don’t be vain.’  
Rudy chuckled at that and tried to step into the hall.  
    ‘Rudy!’ Mycroft shrieked, putting an arm across the doorway.  
    ‘Don’t shout my name like that, people will get ideas,’ Rudy said, with a gentle laugh as he continued to peak around Mycroft’s arm, and soon body which was blocking him in to the best of it’s abilities.  
    ‘You are such a pain in the arse. Stop it, you are not wearing any trousers!’  
    ‘So? Is he an uptight fellow? He looks nice, I think he will forgive me.’  
The green lady put her hand over Greg’s mask as he attempted to cover himself once more. With the other, she ran down his cheek and under his chin.  
    ‘What is your name, Silver?’  
    ‘Greg.’  
    ‘Why are you so bashful? I don’t see anything that needs to be covered.’  
Mycroft groaned, ‘Rudy, this shouldn’t be happening. Why is he here?’  
Greg placed his hand, fingers spread, over the green lady’s chest and pushed. ‘I want to leave.’  
    ‘Of course!’ she said, and Greg could hear the smile that he couldn’t see.  
    ‘Not with you. I’m going home.’  
    ‘Oh, please, Greg, stay. I don’t want to say goodbye yet,’ she pleaded, leaving him pinned between she and the wall, ‘I know you will have fun if you try.’ She ran her hands down Greg’s trousers and gently squeezed.  
Mycroft covered his eyes and walked into the room, unsure of which outcome was about to play out, and not wanting to see any of them.  
    _Bitch._  he thought to himself, and an odd feeling unlike the normal disdain he would feel for such a distasteful situation filled him up inside. It was far more bitter than that. Greg was thinking more vulgar things than that, but still was controlling himself. She was being unreasonable, but she wasn’t harming him any.  
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘Go play with someone else.’  
She stubbornly hadn’t moved at all, ‘I don’t want-’  
    ‘You would think, if indeed you did, that the gentleman has no interest in your easily acquired treats.’  
Mycroft swung his head over his shoulder. His face was splashed with colour now, as was the rest of him surely. Deep, blushing red. In the hall stood his uncle, half-naked and embarrassing as he could manage to be.  
The green lady turned to look at Rudy, hands on her hips, ‘Put some clothes on, Rudy,’ she huffed, and sauntered down the stairs.  
     _Who was that?_  Rudy wondered, as he watched her descend. The voice wasn’t familiar to him. He would have to think about it and look for her later. She definitely would not be invited again.  
    ‘Thanks. I had it, but thanks,’ Greg said, trying not to stare too much at Rudy’s bare legs.  
    ‘You’re welcome, Mr?’ Rudy raised his eyebrows.  
Mycroft pouted, not wanting to leave the room. He quietly called to his uncle.  
    ‘Rudy, no! Rudy, get back in here. Mind your business.’  
Greg nodded. ‘Lestrade. Greg.’  
    Greg stepped forward, and extended a friendly hand. Rudy took it politely.  
    ‘Rudolph Harold Polhart Holmes. Rudy, please. Pleasure.’  
    ‘Oh! Holmes. Are you related to Mycroft?’ Greg asked, as each man retracted their hands.  
    ‘Uncle.’  
    ‘Well, it’s great to meet you. You have some wonderful nephews.’  
Rudy smiled.  _Oh, jackpot._  He could feel Mycroft shaking. It was glorious.  
    ‘Yes, I do. You know Sherlock?’  
    ‘Like the back of my hand,’ Greg replied.  
Rudy chuckled. _Oh, yes, that’s definitely it. Mischievous little monster._  
    ‘Ah, that’s good. I bet he never tricks you. Not even this time of year.’  
    ‘Doesn’t stop him trying, though.’  
    ‘And how well do you know Mycroft?’  
Greg smiled, ‘Better than I thought I did, ’pparently. I was surprised to be invited up here...pleased, but surprised.’  
    Mycroft shook.  _Invited? You weren’t invited, you lying, little pig! Wait, what does he mean pleased?_  
    ‘Invited? Curious, I don’t think that Mycroft ever mentioned you.’  
    ‘Well, it must be. Had my name on it and everything. I can’t think of anyone I know crafty enough to put together an envelope or letter quite like that, no one from work with any reason, neither.’  
    ‘What do you do for a living, Mr Lestrade?’  
    ‘Scotland Yard. Detective Inspector.’  
Rudy’s jaw fell slightly ajar, in the most convincing way he could manage.  
    ‘Scotl- _you’re the_ detective inspector?’  
    ‘Well, _a_ detective inspector.’  
    ‘No, no! The detective inspector that Mycroft talks abou-’  
At the sight of Anthea walking by the door in pink and purple, Mycroft tore the stupid mask from his face, somewhat dishevelling his hair and the collar of his outfit in the process.  
    ‘Damn you, Anthea! You know that Lestrade wasn’t on the guest list!’  
Anthea jumped slightly, her small plate of hors d’oeuvres shifting in her fingers.  
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she defended.  
     _Good job, Greg. See? What did we fucking tell ourself? Fuck._  
    ‘Don’t tell me that! You sent out the damned invitations!’  
Anthea put her hands up, ‘I didn’t send him one! Jesus Christ!’  
    ‘Oh, Anthea, come on, really,’ Mycroft rolled his head, and then looked to Greg, ‘And you!’  
    Greg was visibly offended. ‘What have I done wrong?’  
    ‘Stop licking yourself. Is that a nervous habit? You’ve done it twelve times in the past three minutes, it’s driving me-’  
     _Wild_. was the word, and he knew it.  
-crazy.’  
    ‘Well, I’m sorry!’  
    ‘Better yet, why don’t you just leave? You are uninvited.’  
    ‘I thought that I was invited!’  
    ‘Well, now you know that you’re not!’  
Rudy cleared his throat. ‘Mycroft, I am disappointed. You are being an awful host. Anthea clearly made a mistake, and Inspector Lestrade appears to have been a respectful guest. This behaviour is rude.’  
Mycroft was still stiff, and though his uncle was having a wonderful time lecturing him for one reason or other, he knew that he was right. He walked back into the room and adjusted his costume, and quickly stepped backward into the hall.  
    ‘I am sorry, Anthea. Gregory. Please, let us return downstairs. The blood room is probably unlocked now.’  
    ‘The blood room?’ Greg’s tone of voice was concerned.  
    ‘It’s a vampire-themed dessert banquet. Red wine and velvet cake.’  
    ‘You really worked hard on this, didn’t you?’  
Mycroft’s lips began to curve a bit, but he sucked them in so that the smile wouldn’t come.  
    ‘Yes. I like Halloween.’  
Greg nodded and began to tie his mask, ‘I’d like to see it.’  
    Rudy hurried to grab his mask and follow the other three downstairs, into the dining room. It didn’t glitter and glow like the ballroom, it was dark, and black, and red, and mysterious. Long, thick curtains hung from the high windows, and some from the ceiling. In the centre of the table was the biggest cake that Greg had ever seen. It seemed impossibly difficult to make, but considering how many guests he had seen, it was necessary.  
    ‘Yes!’ Rudy hissed, moving by him and grabbing a glass of wine.  
    ‘This party must have cost a fortune,’ Greg said to Anthea.  
She just smiled and made a small, positive noise. Then she retrieved her phone from her pocket, and started recording Rudy. He did look like a lunatic, with a glass of wine and no trousers. Luckily he had a mask on.  
    ‘I am happy I came. This has really been something to see.’  
Mycroft smiled this time, feeling bolder under the mask. ‘Thank you. I am glad that you like it.’  
Greg took a sip of his wine and was quiet for a moment, ‘So, your uncle said that you had talked something about me?’  
    ‘He was lying,’ Mycroft replied quickly.  
    ‘Okay.’  
The silence that followed was so awkward, and so heavy, that Mycroft felt like he was sinking into tar. Greg kept kicking his foot back and forth, staring down at it as if it were something of a point of interest. It was awful to watch.  
     _Stop that,_  Mycroft thought to himself, _You are fucking exhausting, you...mmh_  
    ‘Do you want some cake?’ Mycroft asked finally, as he felt like he was about to boil over, ‘It’s very good, I must have gained a whole stone sampling different bakeries.’  
Greg laughed...it was  
     _Cute._  
    ‘Yes, I would like some, that would be nice.’  
Mycroft moved along the table, reaching for plates and finding the knife. He cut himself a larger slice than he should have, he knew that, he felt that, but he was too stressed to help himself. After all of the crap that he had dealt with tonight, he earned it. He reached for the silverware and now had the fun of trying to find his way back to Greg in the overstuffed, dark room.  
    ‘Gregory!’ he shouted.  
He stood there for a few moments, but nothing.  
     _Well, that was pointless._  he thought.  
    ‘Yes?’ Greg asked quietly in his ear.  
A shiver ran up Mycroft’s spine and he jolted upward, a small squeal escaping his lips.  
    ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Kind of a popular room right now, isn’t it?’  
Mycroft nodded. ‘I have found that cake is often a popular attraction.’  
    ‘It is really good,’ Greg said, still with some icing in his mouth.  
     _I...uh-but. When?_  Mycroft hadn’t even noticed himself give Greg the slice yet. It was as if it had just disappeared from his hand. That mustn’t happen again. He would not develop his brother’s absent-mindedness.  
    ‘Do you want to leave?’ Mycroft asked, between putting a small bite of cake in his mouth.  
    ‘Huh?’  
    ‘DO YOU WANT TO GO TO ANOTHER ROOM?’  
    ‘Oh! Yeah, a bit, actually.’  
Mycroft smiled, happy with the simple prospect of getting away from all of these people pressing against him so tightly.  
    ‘Want to hold on?’ Greg asked, taking Mycroft’s hand in his, ‘So we don’t get split up again?’  
Mycroft’s skin felt hot and he was sure he was sweating under his mask.  
    ‘Y-Yes, that makes sense.’  
    ‘Excuse me! S‘rry!’ a young woman who certainly had too much to drink fell hard against Mycroft’s back, Greg caught him in his arms, pressing he and Greg tight against one another’s chest. Wine and cake clashed between them, covering them in drink and breaking plates on the floor. Mycroft seemed a little angry at first, but he looked up into Greg’s laughing, bright, masked face and a fantasy-like veil washed over him, as if this wasn’t reality but a ridiculous dream. An impossible dream. How was he here? How was Mycroft wrapped inside of Greg like he belonged to him? They stood there for minutes, eyes fixed like they were looking inside one another. The masks and the darkness painted the illusion that it wasn’t even happening. Like they were looking into a mirror, and they were just hallucinating a figure like the other looking back. Mycroft almost shuddered as he watched Greg’s brown eyes dilate wider and wider. He had the most absurd thought that he should just  
     _Kiss him._  
_You wanker, don’t...Fucking Hell, just kiss him._  
Their hearts were beating in their ears, eyes shut tight. Their tongues tangled together like the finest dance ever choreographed. Greg moaned, deep and low. It was like a dam breaking, desperately overfilled for too long. The sound vibrated and echoed through Mycroft’s head, and he knew. He knew that Greg had wanted this as badly as he had, for as long as he had. Maybe even longer. It was such a relieving, arousing feeling to know positively. He moaned back, the happiest, lustiest noise he could have made.  
    It was a mutual thought. _More._

The clock rang. It was two in the morning and all of the invited guests had gone. Even Anthea had decided to go home and sleep it off. All that was left behind was the mess, a well-mannered minx with no trousers, and two men covered in red wine.  
    Rudy sat in the corner of the ballroom, enjoying his champagne and watching his nephew move the clunky inspector around the room in his arms. It was perhaps the worst dancing he had ever seen, but possibly the most enjoyed as well.  
    The green lady walked over and dropped her body into the chair at the table beside him. She crossed her legs and began watching the poor, but intimate performance that was on display.  
Rudy sipped from his glass, ‘Go home, Sherlock.’  
The artfully disguised green lady tipped his head back and groaned an exasperated sigh, before standing and taking his leave.  
    Rudy felt the piece of paper in his pocket that had been left there over a week prior, slid his finger over the detective’s home address written on it. He shot back his last few sips of champagne.  
    ‘You’re welcome, you stubborn arse.’

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt from mystradepromptchallenge:
> 
> Your dialogue:  
> “What have I done wrong?”  
> and  
> “This shouldn’t be happening.”
> 
> The circumstances…  
> at a party
> 
> You must mention…  
> a family member
> 
> And you must use the word…  
> hesitate
> 
> -https://mystradepromptchallenge.tumblr.com
> 
> This was a lot of fun. Happy All Hallows’ Eve, Everyone! ♥  
>  ~~Please do not steal the gifs, they took me a few hours.~~


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